


tired of waiting for the wind

by cruxxite



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: How Do I Tag, M/M, Wingfic, dont talk to me about hanjis gender, this is BULLSHIT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruxxite/pseuds/cruxxite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to hate them when the person he cares most for considers them beautiful.</p>
<p>Not that he says so, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tired of waiting for the wind

**Author's Note:**

> this ended up a lot longer than it meant to be ,,,, and im still not satisfied 
> 
> w/e ill fix it sometime that isnt like 2am christmas morning haaa

One would think that they'd be beautiful, that'd he'd love having them. That they're a blessing, to be flaunted, revered. But they aren't, they're none of that, they're a curse, they're awful and dreadful and the amount of times people tore at them, hit them with pieces of wood and twisted them, is enough that all he wants is for them to be gone, to melt away the way his titan form does. He's wanted this since he was a child, since before the battle of Trost. It isn't fair. Everything about him is a mistake, he knows, something to be locked away and feared because that's all he is, all he'll ever be. It's why, before they hit their growth spurt after he became a titan that first time, he'd tucked them as close to him as he could and tied them against his torso with a belt (and it hurt, oh god, did it _hurt_ ) and hidden them under a large shirt. But he couldn't hide them now, not after they'd burst through the back of his shirt, tore through the belt, fourteen feet of tawny, shimmering feathers.

Eren knows he’s a monster. He knows that’s all he’s ever going to be, staring into the barrels of the guns directed at his face. The wings extending from his back are folded tightly, their small tremors reflecting his fear. And there Armin is, hurt that Eren’s never told him, and Mikasa who’s trying so hard not to stare for his sake, and the soldiers around who aren’t holding back, just staring, staring, staring.

Perhaps he’d be able to use them beneficially, if he were given the chance. But he isn’t. He’s told to shift into the form which he hates most, more than anything, the one that’s a part of him that he has no choice but to acknowledge as himself, and fuck, all he’s ever going to do is despise himself. But under the courtroom, in that small cell, with those two soldiers gazing at him, he’s never felt it more. Corporal Levi, though, he’s looking at him with the most emotionless expression Eren’s ever seen. It’s astounding that he’s capable of it. His eyes are only on Eren, not straying once to where his wings are strapped to the wall with nailed-in pieces of leather. He seems simply bored, as if he’s too busy wondering when he’ll get to leave this place than actually focused on the boy behind the grimy, rusty bars. He doesn’t even mention the appendages when Eren says he wants to join the Survey Corps, doesn’t question it. It seems that, as long as he has fight in him, as long as he has purpose, the Corporal isn’t going to deny him.

It’s the happiest he’s been in a long time. However much it hurt to listen to his future debated upon like he’s some kind of animal, however much it hurt when Corporal Levi slammed the sole of his boot into his nose, however fearful he was about what would happen next, he trusted the Survey Corps. They would take him in, they had to, he relied on them and they knew it.

Because if Eren really, really wants to die, he’d want to be the one holding the knife, not watch some Military Police official step close, ready to dissect him (and he didn’t doubt that they’d pick through him until he died from pain, either). Sure, he hates himself, but not quite that much.

* * *

It hasn’t been long since Eren arrived at this old stone castle, with its chipping walls and previously dusty shelves. At least, it hasn’t felt like long. Corporal Levi has been keeping him busy, training until he can barely stand with just enough of a break to get cleaned up and eat something before he’s sent to Hanji for their smaller-scale tests. The tests really aren’t not bad, in fact, sometimes the boy enjoys the time he spends with the Squad Leader. The way they speak and smile, and the passion they have for titans really does lift his spirits in a way not much else can. The last time Eren saw someone look so heartfelt about their research, it was when he was a child, listening to Armin read to him from his grandfather’s hidden book. Sometimes he catches a sort of glint in his Corporal’s eyes when he passes them and hears Hanji’s fast words, the steely gaze softening for a fraction of a second before hardening again as he continues on.

The others of Rivaille’s squad are all fairly kind, at least, they try to be. Eren can tell they don’t quite know what to think of him yet. They’re all cautious, he can tell, all a little bit nervous to approach on some days, but they still put in effort to treat him as a part of the squad. For once, Eren feels like he belongs, and it’s wonderful. He felt like this for a while, near the end of his training years, and sometimes felt a little like it when he was with Armin and Mikasa. But he was always reminded, whenever he leaned back and felt his wings straining against the straps, that he was different, always would be.

It’s hard to remember, these days.

When Armin and Jean and Mikasa and the others arrive, Eren can’t help but feel a little less lonely. He loves having his friends nearby, loves knowing he’s in the same area as them instead of a forest away. It’s easier to feel comfortable when his oldest friends are there, prepared to defend him and stand at his side at a moment’s notice. It’s a reassurance at all times, really, and it’s brilliant, it really is. Though they’re all afraid of the mission in a month and a half’s time, Eren likes to think that they’re enjoying the time they have.

Then there comes a day where Eren glimpses, for just a moment, so brief it could have simply been a trick of the light, Corporal Levi’s eyes soften as they meet his. But, of course, it must have just been a trick of the light, because Levi would never look at him like that, right? That’s what Eren tells himself, anyway, as he makes note to stop referring to him in such a comfortable manner, even in his mind.

It really is strange when the Corporal draws him aside once they’re finished training for the day. Eren waves at Mikasa, smiles at her and Armin as they turn to wait for him to show they should go on ahead. He turns back around to face Rivaille.

“Jäeger,” he says. For once, his voice isn’t a snap at all. “You’ve got wings, don’t you?”

This conversation has taken a turn for the worst, and it’s barely even begun. “Yes, sir,” Eren confirms, his voice a mumble. “I keep them as hidden as I can, sir.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Have you ever even opened them of your own free will?”

The hell’s with this line of questioning? Eren wants to spin on his heel and hurry to catch up with his friends, but this is his superior, and who knows how much pain he’d be in if he tried. So he shrugs, looking everywhere but at his Corporal. “Yeah, once or twice, probably.”

At this, Rivaille falls silent. His eyes are an overcast sky, his thoughts the hidden stars. The silence gradually grows more awkward, and Eren shifts on his feet, wings fluttering against the straps at their mention. Finally, the other speaks. “I assume it’s safe to say you’ve never used them.”

The younger blinks, but looks away, shrugging. “Uh, yeah, no, sir. Haven’t really gotten the chance since they got big an’ shit.”

“Would you like to?”

Eren’s mouth falls open, but it closes just as quickly as he decides what’s best to say. He can’t think of anything. His mind is blank. There’s a part of him that has always, always wanted to fly, but is quenched by the one that fears being caught, being put to death without avenging anything, anyone. The idea of flying is frightening, but now that it’s been suggested he can practically feel the wind biting at his face and the sting of the chill on his skin as he forced himself through it--

The Corporal is walking away, now, and Eren is snapped out of his thoughts when he calls over his shoulder, “Meet me on the tower’s roof when the moonlight first gets in your eye tonight. Your door will remain unlocked.”

* * *

On any other occasion, the shifter was likely to have fallen asleep the moment his head hit his pillow, as usual. He’s often too exhausted to lie awake thinking, but certainly not this evening. He could barely even eat he was so eager, but the glare Rivaille shot him was enough to snatch back the roll Mikasa was about to give to Sasha. Perhaps his favorite part of dining that night was the way Levi - no, the Corporal - kept gazing at him out of the corner of his eye. Of course, Eren was doing the same, which is how he was caught doing so, but still!

The exact moment his eyes are stung by the light that streams past the bars of his tiny window, Eren swings his feet over the edge of the bed, hopping down and tossing open the heavy metal door. It’s unlocked, just as the Corporal said it would be. Eren hurries up the stairs, trying to keep his footsteps light and his breathing soft, even in his excitement. He did, however, bring along one of the thin blankets from his cot, in case it’s a little chilly or something. The last thing he wants is to catch a cold, however unlikely it is.

“Corporal, sir?” Eren calls as he steps into the brisk air, peering around. Rivaille is leaning against one of the merlons, resting his elbows on the flat surface. He turns around when he hears the voice. The glance he casts at the sheet in Eren’s hands is just slightly amused. With no one else around to see him, the expression seems a touch more genuine.

“What are you doing with that? It’s only good with a thick blanket atop it, idiot. Put that back on the stairs, and close the door behind you.”

Eren does as he’s told, checking the hatch before heading towards his superior. Rivaille turns, casting him a sidelong glance as he approaches. His gaze moves just barely to the left, over his shoulder. The tip of the joint of Eren’s wing. In such a broad space, with only Rivaille here, he only hesitates a little until he shakes out his wings, spreading them just slightly. He can’t keep the smile from his lips at the feeling of the wind ruffling the downy feathers. The only time they were open like this was when he’d first emerged from his titan form, and he couldn’t even remember it, only had the general idea when Armin described it to him. But in the heat of the disintegrating form, in the confinement of the buildings to his sides, there couldn’t have been any wind, any fresh air. It couldn’t have felt anything like this.

The Corporal speaks again, but his eyes are trained on Eren’s, not the appendages extending from his back. That, too, is a good feeling. “Are you going to stand there forever, brat? Fucking _go_ already. I’ll watch out for you.”

The young soldier swallows tightly, looking around and stretching his wings out fully. They catch the wind, just as they’re made to do, threaten to sweep him up until he tilts them back a little so the air slides past them, around them, and his feet remain safely on the stone. “I, ah.” His voice is small, shy. He feels naked, with his wings out like this. “I don’t know how.”

It’s silent, apart from the whistle of the breeze between the short pillars. Rivaille sighs, after a moment. “Try it. Chances are it’s like walking or talking. Limbs come with instincts. Figure out yours.”

He makes it sound so easy. He’d probably make better use of this than Eren can. Eren’s lived his whole life afraid of his wings, and now he’s being told that it’s fine to use them, to actually _fly_?

He’s still afraid.

But the Corporal has some sort of a glint in his stormy eyes and it’s enough that Eren can pretend that he isn’t, that he’s just fine throwing himself off a goddamn tower--

Eren sighs, walking past the other to peer over the edge of the crenel. It’s a long drop. The tips of his wings shudder in anticipation as he steps up onto the shorter post. The wind buffets him, and even at this angle, his wings curl practically of their own will and urge it to drag him into the air. He braces himself with the merlons on either side, taking a breath. He glances back at Rivaille, who’s watching him carefully. With a shaky sigh, he steps up onto the post to his right and tosses out his wings, leaping upward and hoping for the best.

The best happens.

He’s caught for a moment, suspended, before he flaps his wings once, twice until the wind works with him and lifts him upward. It’s hard, at first. Eren can’t help but feel a touch nervous, but he’s able to push it aside in favor of what it’s like to fly, to actually escape the ground. He laughs joyfully, making sense of what flicks, what twitches of what bits will send him careening to the right, carry him in sweeping arcs. It hardly takes any time at all; it’s instinct, just as Corporal had said. Eren’s careful to keep the land-bound soldier in sight as he soars, however difficult it is to not just go straight to Wall Maria, to fly right over it and see all that Armin told him about all those years ago. He knows he can’t, that he needs to stay here for now. Of course, it’s no use without having a little fun, so he takes some deep breaths as his wings take him upward, higher and higher until Rivaille is a speck. With a quick, breathy laugh, he closes his wings and _plummets_ , and the wind burns his face and his hair is blown back and he throws out his arms, whooping. He’s on fucking cloud nine, literally. When he can see Rivaille’s expression, just barely, his eyes are wide, mouth agape. Eren throws out his wings to catch himself, and it hurts, but his feet tap the stone of the roof and he doesn’t even try to suppress another exuberant laugh as he stumbles, catching his balance, and stops breathlessly in front of his Corporal.

The corner of his lips are tilted up; Eren realizes it’s the first time he’s ever smiled directly at him, and emotions that Eren’s always tried to ignore are heating his cheeks. He remembers his manners, and says, “Thank you,” though it’s more air than voice as he’s still panting, taking in the better oxyngenated air. “Thank you so much, sir, that was fucking _amazing,_  thank you for letting me do this, you’re the best, honestly, holy _shit_ that was so great, thank you!” Eren is so happy he almost hugs the Corporal, but stops himself, although even a swift punch wouldn’t ruin his mood at this point. He has no idea how he’s going to get to sleep tonight.

“I take it you’re finished.” It’s not much of a question, however, Eren doesn’t quite know how to answer. Is he expecting a denial? Now that he thinks of it, Eren would love to dart back into the air, but Rivaille is probably tired, and Eren doesn’t want to keep him here longer than he needs to.

“Yes, Corporal,” he agrees, reluctantly, if anything. “I am. But, uh...” He bites his lip, embarrassed at what he was about to say. Rivaille raises an eyebrow. “Can we do this again? Please? That was my first time flying, and it was so much better than I thought it would be. C’mon, Corporal, please?”

The other gives him a level stare, then sighs, shaking his head. “Christ, you’re eager. Aren’t you tired? You were up there for over an hour.”

Oops.

“But yes, fine, I’ll think about it. In the meantime, don’t misbehave, don’t fuck anything up, clean up your messes - basically, don’t be a fucking brat like usual.”

Eren nods, positively beaming. “Thank you so much!”

“Quit thanking me,” Rivaille grumbles. “And wipe that grin off your face. You look like a jackass.”

Snorting, Eren turns, heading back toward the door. But he stops. And he thinks. Really, of all times, this is likely going to be his best opportunity. But what if he shoves him away, or never looks at him the same way again? Fuck it, fuck it, this is the man who let him fly, for god’s sake, and for a few moments there just after he’d landed, Rivaille had that funny expression...

He’s still for a few moments, lips pursed with the thoughts running through his head. It can be quick, he can run, maybe?

Quickly, Eren spins on his heel and runs up to the other man, stopping right in front of him. Before common sense stops him, he’s leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. Slightly chapped but still soft, huh. Different than he’d thought they’d be. He steps back, then, swallowing. “Forgive me for that, Corporal,” he sighs, then makes sure his tongue isn’t close to his teeth and closes his eyes, preparing for a punch.

“The hell are you doing?” is all that comes.

“I. Uh.”

“The fuck kind of a kiss was that? Christ, Jäegar, I’m not your fucking peer. That was pathetic.”

Eren opens his eyes, brow furrowing in confusion. Isn’t he angry? His lips are a thin line, but his overall expression softens when their eyes meet. For a moment, the younger suspects that Rivaille is going to step close again, to show him what _isn't_ considered pathetic, but he doesn’t, just sighs and shakes his head a little. “I’ll talk to Erwin about your wings. You seemed at least a little decent at them. We’ll see if you can use them more often. And quit strapping them up like you do. Everyone knows they’re there. Have some pride, damnit, they’re--” He stops, pinching the bridge of his nose, then looks up again and gives Eren a nod as he walks past. “Get some sleep, you brat. You’ll need it.”

The door opens and closes behind him, and Eren follows a moment later, disappointment tugging his gut along with the fear of doing as the Corporal says the next day.

* * *

It’s hard to slice the knife down the back of his shirt, and it’s hard to need to do it a second time. It isn’t the nicest shirt, but the fabric is soft and it’s one of his favorites. He has no idea how he’s even supposed to wear his jacket, so Eren decides it’s simply best not to and heads up the stairs.

Two men he never learned the names of--something with K’s in the beginning, maybe?--openly gawk at Eren’s back. He bites his lip, folding his wings closer to him and continuing on. For once, they don’t ache, and that’s just enough to have him relaxing a little. That is, until he gets into the dining room.

Eyes are immediately on him, and the first thing Eren wants to do is hide. He wants to run back to his room in the dungeon and grab the leather staps on the small table and hide the abominations he’s forced to call his wings. When did it get so difficult to walk? It’s like the first day he came all over again. Armin, the lifesaver, calls to him, and he gratefully walks to sit between him and Mikasa, gazing down at the table in an attempt to ignore the ones that were focused on him.

“Don’t you usually bind those?” Sasha asks, a few seats away.

Fuck it. Fuck it, he should be proud, like Rivaille said. They’re something good. They can be used for good, like his shifting ability. Eren swallows, then gives her a small smirk. “Well, everyone knows they’re here,” he tells her, quoting his corporal. “They make me seem more intimidating, don’t they?”

“No,” Mikasa says, and he shoots her a glare, which she answers with a tiny upward tilt of her lips that only he catches. It quells him enough that he moves just a touch closer to her, snagging a mushroom from her plate. She quickly switches his fork with her own, popping it in her mouth with a smile touching her eyes while he opens his mouth to protest, even as Armin sets a plate in front of him.

Everything is... surprisingly normal. After the initial entry, no one is really staring much anymore, back in their own conversations now. It all falls back into the usual routine, and even though the way his wings flutter as he laughs and open a little when he shouts across the table draws a few glances, they’re just that, long enough to sate curiosity and quick enough to still be polite.

Levi’s form in the doorway catches Eren’s eye, as it always does. Their gazes meet; Rivaille nods toward his usual table before heading toward Eren’s.

“Sasha, the Corporal is coming over here, chew faster in case he asks you something!” Connie stage-whispers.

“Why?” she asks, her mouth full.

“He’s likely just coming to say something to Eren,” Armin says, leaning forward so he can see around his friends’ heads and look at the pair bickering pair. “And besides, there’s no way he’d let you talk while you chewed, so he’d ask someone else first.”

Mikasa shrugs. “It’s common sense to refrain from speaking while your mouth is full, anyway.”

“Hear that, Sasha? Mikasa’s sayin’ you don’t have common sense!” Connie laughs.

“That isn’t what I...” Mikasa’s words fade when she realizes the way Eren’s hands are balled into fists, eyes directed to his plate. “Eren? Are you alright?”

_Holy fucking shit I actually kissed him last night what was I even thinking stupid stupid STUPID,_  Eren thinks, giving his foster sister a nod.

Levi stops in front of him, a hand on his hip. “I never realized the fascination one can develop in their own empty plate,” he says, and Armin bites back a laugh. The former’s eyes flick over to him, then back to Eren.

Taking a breath, he looks up. “If you haven’t noticed, sir, when you’re approaching everyone seems to find the floors and walls just a little more interesting.”

Connie gasps. Sasha slaps a hand over his lips.

“That does seem to be the case, unless we’re having a conversation,” he agrees. “Then, everyone seems to go out of their way to get into earshot.”

“It’s simply because our voices compliment each other so well, Corporal.”

Levi smirks. “So it seems.” He gestures for Eren to follow him, and the pair head out.

Jean leans over to Mikasa and murmurs, “D’you think they’re fucking?”

Mikasa visibly pales.

-

“It isn’t so bad having them out, is it?” Rivaille asks, once they’re out on the grounds and away from eavesdroppers.

Eren shrugs. “No, it isn’t.” He spreads his wings, rolling his shoulders. He flaps them, just enough to lift his feet from the ground, before dropping back down. “It’d be fun to see all the stuff I can do with them.” At this, he glances expectantly at his Corporal.

The latter sighs. “I’ve talked to Commander Erwin. He’s going to consider it.”

“Consider using them for battle and training, or consider allowing me to have them out at all?” Oh, God, does Eren hope for the former, please, please be the former.

Levi makes a noncommital gesture. “I’m not sure, but if you want to fly, feel free. I don’t particularly care. Just be quicker than you were before; I have something to do in half an hour.”

“Yes, Corporal!” Wings outspread already, Eren takes a running start (more for fun than anything), braces his foot on a boulder and pushes off it, a strong sweep of his wings sending him soaring.

He doesn’t see when others start to trickle out to watch him, to see his flips and spins and whirls and dives. He’s absorbed in the fresh air, the crispness of it when he inhales. It only feels like a few minutes later when he glances down at Levi, seeing him in front of a small group, including Levi and Hanji’s squads and a few of the 104th trainees. He isn’t quite fond of the idea that people were watching him, but he can’t exactly change it now. Eren’s eyes trace the castle, examining it. It’s a much different sight than from the ground-- _holyshitthat’sCommanderErwin_. The boy swallows, eyes locked on the Commander’s own. What’s that look on his face? Is he... smirking?

Eren respects his Commander, but he can be really fucking creepy sometimes.

Lost in thought and not paying much attention, Eren makes a move to land, arcing into a turn before his wingtip clips a tree and it throws him off-balance. he isn’t that high off the ground, but he’s high enough that it still hurts when he tumbles head-over-heels into an unforgiving patch of wet soil.

“Eren!” Mikasa is at his side in an instant, as to be expected, really. “Be more careful. Were you hurt?”

Eren groans, rubbing his head, even though it doesn’t hurt that much. Rubbing one’s head just seems to be the thing one does after falling. “No, I’m fine,” he says, but she still holds his elbow when he moves to stand. “I told you, Mikasa, I’m _fine._ “ She raises her eyebrows, and that look makes even Eren doubt himself.

Levi steps over, then, successfully diverting the attention from her. “You’re so graceful,” he tells Eren. “Absolutely incredibly. Inspiring, I’d say.”

“Shut up,” Eren snaps, wings fluttering. Shit, that hurt. He holds them in a way that doesn’t require much muscle use, not folded but not fully spread. The other’s eyes follow the movement, but his expression goes unchanged.

“You’re filthy, down to your wings,” Levi says. “Come along, otherwise you’ll never bother cleaning yourself up.”

With very little choice in the matter, Eren follows him, slouching his shoulders. How embarrassing. Everyone saw him wipe out, and whoever didn’t is going to hear about it. He can already hear Jean’s taunts. God, he’ll never be the same. No one will ever treat him with respect.

“Would you quit fucking moping? It’s annoying.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you’re tracking mud, I will personally sever your eyeballs from their optic nerves. Don’t doubt me, Jäeger.”

“I don’t, sir!”

Levi grunts. “Go shower. Down to the dirt under your nails. Understand?”

“Yes, Corporal.” Eren hurries to the bathing rooms before Rivaille can say any more. He turns on the shower, stripping down ’til he’s bare. Knowing it won’t get any better than lukewarm, he steps in, rinsing dirt and earth from his hair, off his skin, and as much off his wings as he can reach. Clumps are still probably stuck to the down, but there isn’t much he can do about it, especially when he can’t reach it. When he turns it off and pulls on some spare clothes, restrapping his 3DMG, he’s a little nervous to go out and face Levi again. It shoudn’t be a big deal, he knows, but they’d be alone, completely alone, and that’s when it’s hardest to ignore his emotions, damn them.

However, he can’t just hide in here forever, so he steps out, pretending to still be adjusting the straps on his chest so he doesn’t need to look up right away. When he does, Rivaille is sitting on the chair in the other room, right ankle on his left knee and reading a paper. When Eren clears his throat, it’s still a minute before he looks up. “Well, it’s as decent as you usually look. Let me see your wings.”

Rather than extending them, Eren walks closer and turns his body toward Levi. He must have hit the connecting joints on something, or perhaps landed on them when he fell, because moving them too much really fucking hurts.

“Tch.” Fingers pluck at a wad of soil, taking with it a few soft feathers. Eren winces, flinching at the touch, leaning back to follow the movement as if to make it hurt a little less. “Can you even reach them all the way? Christ. These must be absolutely filthy when you’re in a hurry.”

“Hey!” Eren shouts, stumbling back a half-step when Levi pulls out more dirt, as well as more feathers. “That hurts, you know!”

“Does it?” He actually pauses, rubbing a bit between his fingers so it crumbles to the floor. “This is far less effective, though.”

“Then just, I don’t know!” Eren almost stomps a foot in his exhasperation. “Fucking wash them for me or something!”

So Levi rises to his feet, grabbing his arm and leading him to the washroom. He grabs a clean cloth from a cabinet, dampening it. He pushes Eren onto a stool, more gently than he would have thought, and kneels behind the younger boy, pressing a palm to his wing to spread it.

Holy shit.

He works rhythmically to get out all the soil, touches light and thoughtful. Eren can’t hold back a pleased sigh, relaxing completely under his hands. Levi could have snapped his neck if he wanted to in the state he has Eren in. When his fingers run through the down feathers to find missed clumps, the boy chokes back a soft groan just in time. No one has ever touched his wings like this before. It’s all been hits and pulls and yanks, not this. This is careful, meaningful. Levi is doing this because he’s kind.

And because of the way he despises dust, but still. It’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

On top of that, Eren has never actually gotten the chance to experience just how sensitive they are. This reveals it. He thought it would be a little like someone touching the hair on the nape of his neck, but it isn’t. It’s an entirely different sensation than and feeling of touch on his skin, and it’s enough that he arches his back a bit into Levi’s hands.

“There.” The word comes far sooner than Eren would have preferred, but there’s still a hand on his wing when he hears the sound of the cloth being dropped onto the table. Almost hesitantly, Rivaille strokes the feathers he’d just cleaned. “I’m checking for any I missed,” he says, though Eren doubts it.

They’re both silent, the Corporal’s hands soft on his wings and Eren’s eyes falling closed to revel in the sensation. Maybe it’d be alright to let his wings out more often, or let people touch them, if they were to do it like this. No one’s hands could feel like Levi’s, though, no matter how gentle they were to be. The brush of his fingers couldn’t compare to anything else.

Rivaille stands. Eren turns to say something, anything, whatever slips from his mouth, but before he can, another pair of lips stops him. He blinks, but Levi’s eyes are closed, a hand moving to his hair, and that’s enough for him to take a breath through his nose and let his own eyes close. Ah, he can see where he went wrong before. His nose had bumped against Levi’s, last time, his head hadn’t been at a good angle, his lips hadn’t been positioned properly and his pressure had been a touch too forceful. The Corporal knows what he’s doing. He’s kissed and been kissed before, where Eren hasn’t, apart from clumsy experimental sort of kisses in the barracks. This is practically incomparable to the other. Eren feels his superior’s teeth nick his lower lip as he draws back, his expression exactly the same if not for the tint of pink dusting over his cheekbones.

Then he pulls a small watch from his pocket, checking the time and _tch_ ing. “You made me late,” he grumbles, turning on his heel. “Be on the roof at the same time tonight. And bring that sheet. Make sure it’s the same as last night; I don’t want you dirtying another.”

Eren punches the air and stage-whispers a victory shout.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks 2 my bb kee 4 helpin me out so much b u da best ,##


End file.
